


The Sum of the Whole

by Crollalanza



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Sexual Content, Strong Profanity, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-23
Updated: 2014-04-23
Packaged: 2018-01-20 13:10:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1511699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crollalanza/pseuds/Crollalanza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'...Benjy Fenwick, he copped it too, we only ever found bits of him ...' </p>
<p>At school Sirius knew Fenwick didn't like him. Following him around, or docking points, he was always in his face and trying to piss him off. Years later they are paired up on a mission for the Order. Can they overcome their mutual loathing and work together?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sum of the Whole

They find bits of him. The body parts of Benjy Fenwick are found scattered in a field where he’d been blasted apart, returning, not from a mission but a weekend away, visiting family. And when the Order gathers the bits together, recovering what they can, they find the sum of the parts does not equal the whole.   
  
  
 _Eyes_  
  
He’s tall for his age, and already the girls are interested. Sirius is flattered but isn’t quite sure what to do when the Ravenclaw from the fifth year makes it clear she’d like to kiss him. He’s fourteen, she’s sixteen and used to getting what she wants, he’s been told.   
  
“You, Sirius Black, have the most perfect eyes I’ve ever seen,” she says, sidling up to him. “I could stare into them forever, unless you can think of something else you’d rather do.”  
  
James splutters as he overhears her conversation, causing Evans to make a remark about him closing his mouth when he’s eating, but James doesn’t make a smart reply; he’s too intent on watching as the girl places her hand on Sirius’ thigh, sliding it upwards.   
  
“Wow,” he says, his eyes round, after she’s left.  
  
“Uh ... yeah ...” Sirius is stuck for words. Octavia Belby is pretty, and he’d felt a thrill at the illicit contact. “What should I do?” he asks the table in general.  
  
“Ask her to Hogsmeade?” Remus suggests.   
  
From the opposite side of him, and three places along, someone snorts. Sirius looks up and sees he’s being watched by one of the Gryffindor Beaters, (who is someone he doesn’t like much, but James seems to think is some kind of demi-god.)  
  
“She’s after your cherry, Black,” Benjy Fenwick stage whispers. “You could be about to get very lucky.”  
  
Sirius meets his gaze, stares straight into his pale blue eyes and doesn’t blink. If Fenwick’s trying to unsettle him, it won’t work. Sirius is a Black in more than name.   
  
Fenwick blinks first and helps himself to another roll. “So what are you going to do, Black?”  
  
“Not tell you about it,” Sirius retorts. Beside him, he is aware that James is getting edgy, but Sirius doesn’t care. Fenwick pisses him off and he doesn’t care if he’s a seventh year and a prefect, he’s always getting in Sirius’ face.  
  
“Be careful you don’t get caught, that’s all I’m saying,” Fenwick replies coldly, then gives James a wink and lightens his tone. “You should try to keep your mate out of trouble. I wouldn’t want to be the one responsible for him serving another detention.”  
  
“Stop following me round then,” Sirius mutters, but not loud enough for Fenwick to hear. He glances across to the Ravenclaw table. Octavia looks his way and smiles at him. He’s unsure, but smiles back.   
  
  
 _Chest_  
  
Octavia Belby places his hand on her chest and tells him he can touch her if he wants. Sirius blinks a little then slips his hand under her robe. She’s not wearing a bra, and the first thing he finds is the soft nub of her nipple. His breathing gets faster, her moans louder, as she pushes his head downwards to her chest. He licks and then sucks because that’s what she seems to want, and then, just as Octavia slips her hand under his robe, the door bursts open.  
  
It’s Fenwick, tumbling into the classroom. He falls to the floor, laughing, and then straightens up when he sees Sirius.  
  
“Well, well, well, Black and Belby,” he mutters. “I  _should_  report you, but leave now and I’ll say no more.”  
  
They straighten their clothes, Octavia blushing as she tries to tuck in her shirt. As he shoos them out the door, Fenwick wears a benign expression on his face; it flickers to something else when Sirius stares him out.   
  
“Go back to your dormitory, Black,” he mutters. “You’re lucky it was me that found you and not her brother.”  
  
Sirius glowers at him, but before he can answer back, Octavia grabs his hand and pulls him away. She knows of another place that they can go to, and this time she’ll lock the door.  
  
It is only later when Sirius is in bed and grinning as he thinks about Octavia’s tits, that he realises Fenwick hadn’t been alone. His robes had been open to his waist as if someone had ripped at them - his chest bare.  
  
“That bastard just wanted to use the classroom,” he mutters, furious for a moment. But the fury disappears when he remembers Octavia’s hand working its way up his thigh. She’d touched him and giggled as he’d gasped, then withdrawn her hand.  
  
"Better not,” she’d whispered. “Your prefect might have followed us.”  
  
Now, in the blackness of the night, now that all he can hear are the others snoring, Sirius runs his hand up and down, imagining it’s Octavia carrying out her promise and not reneging.  
  
“Fuck you, Fenwick,” he groans at last.  
  
  
  
 _Arms_  
  
In Hogsmeade, the week after his fifteenth birthday, Sirius has dodged away from his friends and made good his promise to meet up with Octavia. They meet by the river that winds around the back of the village, Sirius pulling her behind a tree desperate to touch and be touched. She is gigglingly compliant; then it becomes more serious and she pulls him to the ground, winding her legs about his waist. For all his fantasies, for all the times he’s done this to himself, imagining it’s Octavia with him, the sensations coursing through him are unreal. He tries to make it last, but as she lifts her arms above her head, causing her tits to move, he comes suddenly and collapses on top of her.  
  
“You enjoyed that,” she whispers and smiles. “Happy birthday.”  
  
Sirius can’t think what to say now, all he can concentrate on is his own body as it shudders down. Gently flipping him onto his side, Octavia takes his hand and places it between her thighs. She moves against him, her eyes becoming unfocused, and watching her with a mixture of fascination and horror, Sirius becomes hard again.   
  
“You’re very pretty,” he mumbles and tries to manoeuvre himself back on top of her. But Octavia laughs and pushes him away.  
  
“And you’re very sweet, Sirius. But I don’t have time now. I said I’d meet my friends.”  
  
“But ... I thought you wanted to spend the afternoon together. We could go to Madam Puddifoot's if you want. I’ve brought some money.”  
  
Smiling, Octavia pulls up her knickers and pats her hair back into place. “As I said, you’re very sweet, but if my brother sees us together he’ll hex your bits off.” She rolls her eyes. “He hero worships Leo, you see.”  
  
“Leo?” Sirius shakes his head. The only Leo he can think of is a Slytherin who left last year. “Leo Bole?” She nods. “What’s he got to do with this?”  
  
“He’s my boyfriend, darling,” Octavia replies, then pecks him on the cheek. “Must dash. This has been fun. We should do it again sometime.”  
  
But as he watches her go, the protest dying on his lips, Sirius knows there won’t be a next time. He sits with his back against the tree, feeling the bark prickling through his robe and realises it wasn’t worth dumping his friends for a girl. If he ran back now, he could burst in on them at the Three Broomsticks and laugh this off. But instead, he stands by the river, skimming stones across its surface and wondering about Octavia.   
  
“Thought you’d be with your gang, Black,” Fenwick says. He’s standing further up the path, obviously having just seen Octavia hurrying away. “Shouldn’t you be celebrating your birthday?”  
  
“What’s it to you?” Sirius demands. He knows he’s being rude and doesn’t care if Fenwick’s a prefect. He could be a bloody international Beater, and Sirius wouldn’t give a toss. He’s always there, hanging around and giving him grief.  
  
Fenwick shrugs. “Nothing. Only I saw Potter looking for you.”  
  
The stab of guilt returns. With his last throw, Sirius watches the stone as it fails to make more than two skims before plunging into the fast flowing river.  
  
“Didn’t go quite as you hoped, I guess,” Fenwick continues. He walks further up the path until he’s standing next to Sirius and crouches down to pick up more stones. As he reaches for the flatter ones on the riverbank, he hitches up his sleeve revealing a tanned and muscular forearm. “Here you are,” he says, dropping four flat stones into Sirius’ hand. “Have another go, but this time, flick your wrist a little quicker.”  
  
Sirius stares at the stones and at Fenwick’s hand, which is still touching his fingers. He smiles wanly and hands two back to him. “Want to show me how it’s done?”  
  
  
  
 _Hand_  
  
The last game of the season is against Ravenclaw. Gryffindor have been playing well, and are expected to win the Cup, but nothing in life is ever certain, especially in Quidditch, when all can rest on a capricious winged ball.   
  
It’s Benjy’s last game in red and gold. There’s a slew of Gryffindors in the team who will be leaving and this is to be their swansong. They want to go out on a high, and watching as they zip through the air, Sirius wants that too. He’s a Gryffindor, so, yes, he wants them to win the Cup but he also wants them to win in style.   
  
James is playing out of his skin, eager to win as much as the others, rattling Quaffles past the Ravenclaw Keeper and roaring after each one goes in. Sirius, Remus and Peter laugh, enjoying his exuberance, but for Sirius there’s an added excitement in watching Gryffindor’s glory. Octavia Belby is their Seeker, and he wants her team to lose - and lose badly.   
  
So when Benjy fires a Bludger at her, and it hits her broom so she swerves off course, he cheers. When Benjy launches another, and this time it narrowly misses her hand, Sirius winces, but cannot stop grinning. Then, when she’s about to make the catch, and Benjy - now out of Bludgers - charges towards her and incurs a penalty, he roars with laughter.   
  
The match ends on a whimper; the Snitch appearing by the Gryffindor Seeker’s ear, its wings tickling. He starts to flap it away, before realising, and then with a huge grin, makes the catch.  
  
Benjy flies past the Gryffindor stand, accepting the plaudits and whooping with joy. As he approaches Sirius, he slows down. He is grinning but his smile seems to deepen. He reaches out and touches Remus’ hand, then Peter’s before finally grasping at Sirius.  
  
“Brilliant game,” Sirius yells, now standing up.   
  
Benjy quirks one eyebrow then leans in to him. “I took care of Belby, anyway. She shouldn’t mess around with Gryffindors; sometimes we don’t play fair at all.” Then, with a final squeeze of Sirius’ hand, he returns to join the team, hugging their Seeker who still can’t quite believe the catch came so easily.  
  
“You don’t hate him now, then,” Remus says.  
  
“Huh?” Sirius drags his attention away from Benjy, who’s now ruffling James’ hair, and stares at Remus. “How can I hate someone that plays as brilliantly as that?”  
  
  
  
 _Neck_  
  
He hasn’t seen Benjy Fenwick for over three years, but now they’re sitting opposite each other around a large table, whilst Albus Dumbledore calls the meeting to order.  
  
Sirius is a new recruit to the Order. When Dumbledore approached him, he jumped at the chance to do something - anything - to throw off the stigma of his last name. He is grateful and desperate to prove his worth, but as he studies the battle-hardened wizard opposite, he feels a wrench of fear in his gut. Benjy looks weary, and not at all like the cocky git from school who took the piss out of Sirius for four solid years. He has a scar on his neck stretching down towards his shoulder. It looks new, and Benjy flinches when he turns towards Dumbledore to begin his debrief.  
  
He tells them he received the hex from a Death Eater, but wasn’t sure which one. He suspects Malfoy, but has nothing to back up the suspicion except that he thought he recognised the voice. He shrugs.  
  
“There were three of them. I got off lightly, but Hestia’s still at St Mungo’s. She managed to hurt one of their lot very badly, which saved my hide, but left her open.” Lifting the goblet of water to his mouth, he takes a gulp. “Sorry,” he mutters. “I should have done better.”  
  
A witch Sirius is later introduced to as Emmeline Vance, reaches across and places her hand on Benjy’s. “You’re exhausted and can’t be everywhere.” He smiles slightly at her, and again Sirius notices how much he’s changed since school.  
  
Benjy used to be open. Even when being obnoxious, he’d always been upfront about it. He would laugh and joke and roar through life, but now the dark circles under his eyes betray a torment within.  
  
Finishing his water, Benjy sets the goblet down on the table, placing it, with precision, on the coaster to the side of him. Then he moves his hand up to his neck, gingerly touching the scar. Sirius watches him wince as the wound reopens.  
  
“It looks worse than it is,” he tells Sirius when the meeting is finished. And with a surfacing of some faint bravado, winks and says, “Chicks dig guys with scars. You might want to get a few.”  
  
Sirius laughs. “I don’t do so badly without.”   
  
“I bet you don’t,” Benjy says, but his smile is fading and he turns away to talk to Gideon.  
  
Sirius stares at the livid scar arcing down Benjy’s neck and finds himself wondering how far down his back it goes. It isn’t only the scar, though. At twenty-one, Benjy has filled out and no longer looks like the nearly-man he was at eighteen. His nose has a bump in it, and he’s unshaven. Beside him, Sirius still feels as young and stupid as he did at fourteen, when Benjy was goading him about Octavia.   
  
  
  
 _Fingers_  
  
They are paired up for Sirius’ first mission. It’s just reconnaissance - a deserted cottage on the outskirts of a Muggle town in the Midlands - and it pisses Sirius off because he wanted a chance to show the Order he could be valuable, but when he tries to protest, Benjy takes him to one side.  
  
“This is important. Without information, we’re stuffed. Hestia was injured because we lacked the knowledge that there was a Death Eater cell in that area.” He grips Sirius’ arm. “Don’t run before you can walk. There’ll be plenty of opportunity to throw yourself into a fight, but let’s make sure we have the upper hand, yeah?”  
  
“I can fight!” Sirius declares, and starts to tell Benjy about a brawl in Hogsmeade, facing down Snape and Mulciber.  
  
“Schoolboy skirmishes,” Benjy replies dismissively. “They wouldn’t have killed you. I doubt they knew how.” Letting go of Sirius’ arm, he Summons his cloak and broom before turning back. “But they will now.”   
  
As he fastens his own cloak, Sirius rubs his arm, still feeling Benjy’s fingers biting into him.   
  
  
  
 _Thigh_  
  
On their fourth mission together, Sirius fucks up. Bored, restless and desperate to do more than stay hidden, he scales the wall, after seeing Rabastan Lestrange’s face at the window of the cottage. Benjy hisses at him to come back, but Sirius refuses, telling him he’ll only be a minute, but he wants to see who else is there.  
  
He realises his mistake when he drops to the ground to find himself at the wrong end of his cousin’s wand.   
  
“How good of you to drop in, Sirius,” she hisses, and smiles menacingly. “Have you come to join us?”   
  
A loud Caterwauling Charm makes them both jump, but gives Sirius enough time to cast a Stunning Spell. As Bellatrix dodges it, she stumbles; Sirius is about to Stun her again, but is caught by a rope.  
  
“Climb back NOW!” orders Benjy, fury etched on his face. Casting a Shield Charm to protect Sirius, Benjy hauls him up to the top of the wall, and then pushes him back to the other side. It’s as Benjy’s dropping down, that Bellatrix hits him with a hex, and he falls to the grass with a thump.  
  
For a second, all Sirius can do is stare in horror as Benjy writhes in pain, but then he snaps out of it, grabs him by the waist and Apparates straight back to Benjy’s flat.  
  
“Apparating an injured person is against Ministry regulations, Black,” Benjy gasps when they land.  
  
“It was better than picking up bits of you,” Sirius mutters. “Are you going to report me?”  
  
Benjy winces as he grasps his thigh. Under the lamplight, Sirius can see the blood staining his hand. “Sorry,” he says.  
  
“It could have been a damn sight worse.” Summoning a bottle of Firewhisky, he adds, “And no, I won’t report you, but don’t bloody disobey me again.”  
  
“I saw Rabastan!” Sirius explains hotly.  
  
“They meant you to see him. Why the hell do you think Bellatrix was there?” He gasps, and tries to unstopper the Firewhisky. “Fuck! It hurts.”  
  
Sirius takes the bottle from him, pours two shots, and lets the liquid sear the back of his throat.  
  
“Sorry,” he mutters.  
  
“Don’t apologise. Just learn from it.” Benjy knocks back his shot in one, and gestures for a refill.   
  
“Do you need a Healer?”  
  
“Nope, I just need to take a look at it.” Gulping his second shot, he tries to stand but falls forward, nearly sending Sirius flying.  
  
“You need to sit down,” Sirius says roughly, and levers him back in his chair. “Tell me what you need, what I can do.”  
  
“Spare set of robes in there,” he says, pointing to a door to another room. “Something to clean this with, and ...” He stops talking, and looking at him closely, Sirius can see sweat beading on his forehead.   
  
“You need a Healer,” he insists.  
  
“My dad’s one,” Benjy replies, panting. “I know what to do. Just do what I ask, and ... Sirius, can you get a fire going?”  
  
When the fire is lit, and Benjy is pulling up his robes, Sirius hovers over him. The wound looks nasty but not too deep, thankfully, but he’s worried at how clammy and grey his face is looking.  
  
“Shit, my hands are shaking too much,” Benjy groans. “You’ll have to help.”  
  
Sirius nods and crouches down by his side. “What do I do?”  
  
“It was a hex, so I don’t think Dittany alone is going to help. Clean it up, cast a counter curse, then, if it looks better, use the Dittany.” He yelps as Sirius touches the wound with a cloth. “It’s okay, carry on, but pour me another drink first.”  
  
When the wound is clean, Sirius touches the tip of his wand to the wound, and mutters a counter curse as he traces its path up Benjy’s thigh. To his relief it looks better, the ripped skin pink and not black. He reaches for the Dittany, sprinkles it over the wound and watches in satisfaction as it heals.  
  
“Merlin, that’s better,” gasps Benjy. His head lolls back on the sofa cushion, and he smiles lopsidedly at Sirius. “You make a lovely nurse.”  
  
“Do you need anything else? Can I fetch anyone?”  
  
“No need to bother anyone. Just keep me company.”  
  
“Shouldn’t we be reporting back to the others?”  
  
Benjy closes his eyes and lets out a sigh.”Hell, I forgot. You might need to do that. Use the Floo or my owl and tell them who was there.”  
  
“I should tell them what happened,” Sirius says dubiously.  
  
“Tomorrow,” Benjy says. “We’ll tell them everything, tomorrow.”  
  
In the end, Sirius sends a message using Benjy’s owl. He tells them who was there and also that they were spotted so left early, but doesn’t explain about the injury. It is only now that the adrenaline has fully left his body that Sirius realises how reckless he was. And there’s something else nagging at him. It wasn’t just recklessness; he wanted to impress Benjy and now he’d failed to achieve that end, too.  
  
He says sorry, again, and starts to explain, but Benjy shakes his head, saying he doesn’t want to hear any more apologies. “Have a drink and shut up,” he murmurs and waves his hand at the space next to him on the sofa. Then he starts to laugh immoderately. “I find it quite funny that you wanted to impress me. You hated me at school. Merlin, you were an annoying brat, Sirius, so bloody stubborn.”  
  
“You used to wind me up,” Sirius protests, but he’s smiling at the memories. “I told James it was deliberate, but he wouldn’t hear a word against you. He, of course, bloody hero-worshipped you.” He grins at Benjy and helps them both to more Firewhisky. “Was I that much of a prat?”  
  
Benjy nods, his eyelids are closing, but he opens one eye and squints at Sirius. “I liked winding you up, Black.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“No reason,” Benjy replies and takes another sip of his drink. “No reason at all.”  
  
Sirius frowns at him, wondering at the prevarication. He leans forward and touches Benjy on the arm. “Was it because I’m a Black? Did you hate me because of that?”  
  
“I didn’t hate you,” Benjy says wearily.   
  
Sirius thinks carefully, casting his back over the four years they were at Hogwarts together, remembering all the jibes, and the stares, the snide smiles. “Then why? Because James was far worse at times, and you only seemed to have it in for me.”  
  
“Gods, who bloody knows? We’re grown-ups, Sirius, let this drop.”  
  
“Tell me,” he mutters.  
  
“You really don’t want to know,” Benjy replies, his voice soft.   
  
They settle into an uncomfortable silence, helping themselves to more Firewhisky, and drinking until Benjy decides he needs his sleep. Then Sirius heads back to his flat, hoping James or someone will be there, but no one is around. Sitting on his bed, he wonders, again, why Benjy clammed up, but his thoughts are jumbled after the drink and the night’s events and he can’t puzzle it out.  
  
  
  
 _Mouth_  
  
At the debrief the following morning, Benjy takes the blame. Sirius tries to interrupt, but Benjy gets in there first, saying he told Sirius it was fine to take a closer look.  
  
“It was reckless, I know,” he says. “But I thought it was worth the risk to see who was there.”  
  
“No, it wasn’t like that,” Sirius butts in. “I ran towards the wall with-”  
  
“It was Black’s idea,” Benjy interrupts, “but I should have stopped him.”  
  
“It was a risk,” Albus replies, “but you both emerged unscathed, I trust.”  
  
Sirius doesn’t blink when Benjy replies that they are both unharmed.  
  
“Lord Voldemort will not be using that particular location again,” Albus continues. “It is a pity you were seen, Sirius, the information we could have gleaned from the reconnaissance could have been useful.” He turned his gaze from Sirius to Benjy. “You have something you wish to add, Benjy?”  
  
Benjy coughs. He doesn’t look at Sirius but stares directly at Albus. “I was at fault last night. I don’t think I’m the right person to partner Sirius. I suggest switching around. Perhaps Fabian or -”  
  
“Hold on! Do I get a say in this?” Sirius demands.   
  
But Benjy ignores him and continues to speak to Albus, suggesting that he might be better working with Lily, or perhaps Peter.  
  
Albus purses his mouth, his eyes flickering from Benjy to Sirius and then back to Benjy again. “This is one setback, Benjy, and I think you have both learnt from this. I am loathe to break up a partnership over one mis-hap, so unless you have another reason why you cannot work together, I will see you both here tomorrow evening to receive your next detail.”  
  
Benjy’s eyes flicker towards Sirius and then back to Albus. His hand is gripping his wand, the knuckles white, but when he speaks, his voice is measured. “There is no other reason, Albus.”  
  
He scrapes his chair back and in a trice, Sirius follows, saying a hurried goodbye to Albus as he heads after Benjy.   
  
“What the hell was that all about?” he hisses, catching Benjy as he leaves the house.  
  
“Leave it!” Benjy raps.   
  
“No, I won’t bloody leave it!” He pulls on Benjy’s arm, not caring that they can be overheard out in the Muggle street. “You lied in there to Dumbledore. You told -”  
  
“I stretched the truth,” Benjy interrupted. “It’s not a big deal.”  
  
“But then you say you don’t want to partner me. So you  _do_  think it’s my fault.” Still grabbing his sleeve, Sirius drags Benjy to the corner of a side street. Gone are the days when Benjy Fenwick towered over him, Sirius is nearly a head taller than his former tormentor is, and as he stares down at him, it all comes flooding back.  
  
“You still think I’m no fucking good, don’t you, Fenwick? To you I’m still the Black kid in the wrong house.” He lets go of his arm, and takes a step back, fury spitting from his eyes. “What do I have to do to prove that I’m not like my bloody family? That lot in there, they all accept me, but you can’t - or rather - you won’t.”  
  
“It has nothing to do with that,” Benjy murmurs, and stares him straight in the eye. “Okay, perhaps that first term when you were Sorted, it was about your name. I’d caught a hex or two from your cousin’s wand, so I was inclined to distrust you.”  
  
“I was eleven!”  
  
“Yeah, and I was fourteen and stupid.” He closes his eyes and slumps his back against the wall. “Can we drop this now?”  
  
“No,” Sirius persists. “We can’t ‘drop this’. You’re not fourteen anymore, but if you still don’t trust me, then you need to tell Dumbledore that.”  
  
“I do trust you.” Benjy’s voice is level, sincere, and he’s staring Sirius directly in the eyes, his pale blue eyes unwavering.   
  
“Then what was all that crap in there about?” Sirius demands. His voice is raised as he tries to comprehend Benjy’s attitude because he thought they worked well together. Even after last night, he thought they had a connection, something that makes them a good team. Something he’s only ever really felt with James. He grabs Benjy by the shoulder, rougher than he meant, but he’s desperate now to know what the problem is. “Benjy, what do I have to do to prove that I’ve got your back? Tell me.”  
  
“Just leave it!”  
  
“NO!” He’s pinned Benjy against the wall, now, still staring into his eyes. Benjy doesn’t blink, but lifts his hands to Sirius’ chest and tries to push him away, but Sirius holds firm. “Tell me,” he insists.  
  
“YOU WANT TO KNOW?” Benjy shouts. “You  _really_  want to know, Black!” And then the hands aren’t balling into fists on Sirius’ chest. Instead they’re cupping Sirius’ face, pulling his head down and crushing his lips to his, engulfing, pressing, greedy.   
  
Sirius blinks. His body goes rigid and his hands drop to his side. He can feel Benjy’s need, knows his mouth is there, but is too shocked to react.  
  
“There you go,” Benjy mutters and fiercely pushes him away. “That’s the story, Black. Now, trot back to Dumbledore and tell him you want a new partner.”   
  
He Apparates away leaving Sirius alone and confused in the dingy alleyway.  
  
  
  
 _Heart_  
  
The Floo whooshes into life. From his armchair, Sirius stares as the figure emerges. For one brief moment, he thinks it’s Benjy, but before he can process whether he wants it to be Benjy or not, the figure shakes out her robes.  
  
“Hey,” Lily says, smiling. “Hope you don’t mind me dropping in. Is James here?”  
  
Sirius shakes his head. “He’s with Peter and Gideon somewhere.”  
  
“Ah.” Lily doesn’t ask. They’re not supposed to discuss operations together unless it’s in the course of a meeting. “Don’t mind if I wait here, do you?”  
  
Sirius shrugs, then realises this looks rude and smiles at her. “Sure, but I’m not very good company.”  
  
“Ha, when are you ever?” Lily replies, and giggles at him.   
  
“I thought you loved me!” he says, but his voice automatic and dull. It’s an old game between them. Banter and rivalry, usually played out with James grinning benignly in the background.   
  
“'Course I do,” she says, and bending down she touches her lips to his cheek. “What’s up, Padfoot?”  
  
The gesture and her question surprise him. “Nothing.”  
  
"Don’t give me that,” she says, and sighs. “I’ve known you for a long time, Sirius. You’re like a very thick, impenetrable book, and it took me years to work you out, but I know you now.”  
  
“What sort of book is Prongs?”  
  
Lily snorts. “I’m tempted to say he’s like a comic, but it’s one I don’t seem to get tired of reading. Anyway, don’t change the subject. What’s wrong?”  
  
Sirius doesn’t know what to say. He knows he has to tell someone, and had been thinking about seeking Remus out, but with Lily’s gaze on him, he starts to confide.   
  
She listens, sitting by his feet, as he recounts the night’s events, squeezing his hand when he tells her he faced Bellatrix. But he stops speaking after a while, unsure he can carry on.  
  
“Benjy said he wanted a new partner, did he?” she murmurs. “How do you feel about that?”  
  
“Honestly?” Lily nods at him. “I ... don’t know. We work well together and I don’t want to partner someone else. Hell, I cocked up yesterday and he bawled me out-”  
  
“But you took it and didn’t shout back,” Lily says. “Interesting. You respect him, don’t you? So ... what’s the problem?”  
  
“We were arguing in that alleyway behind headquarters and ... uh ... he kissed me.”  
  
“Oh.” Lily gnaws at her upper lip. “Um, what did you do?”  
  
“Er...” Sirius shifts awkwardly in his chair, thinking back and wondering what he did do. Had he responded? Had he pushed Benjy away? Had he - “I didn’t do anything. I was too shocked, I suppose. I mean ... I didn’t know he was  _gay_ -”  
  
“Didn’t you?” Lily turns her gaze from the fire to him. “Hmm, I suppose it wasn’t common knowledge. But I saw him in a clinch with a boy once.”  
  
“And you never said?”  
  
She shakes her head, still staring into Sirius’ eyes and smiles faintly. “Benjy Fenwick was the only person I knew who could cut both you and James down to size. I wasn’t about to spread gossip about him, not when I liked him.”  
  
“So what do I do now?”  
  
“Oh, Merlin, I don’t know. I think that’s something you’ve got to figure out for yourself.”  
  
He laughs mirthlessly. “I thought you girls were supposed to be good at all this stuff.”  
  
Lily stands up, and bending forward, ruffles his hair, whispering. “That’s your problem, Padfoot, I don’t think you know that much about girls, either, despite you waking up with a different one every week.”  
  
Watching her, as she wanders into his small kitchen and makes them both tea, Sirius wonders why he’s not confused by her last statement. He didn’t stay broken-hearted for long after Octavia dumped him and had a succession of girlfriends - although the brevity of these flings meant they never qualified as actual relationships.   
  
“I don’t want to stop working with him,” he decides.   
  
Lily sets the teapot down on the table, letting it brew before she pours. “You need to find him and clear the air, then, don’t you?  
  
“But ...” Sirius pauses, wondering how to phrase this. He flushes. “What do I do if he starts snogging me again?”  
  
“You’ll think of something,” she says, sounding infuriatingly enigmatic. But then she touches his knee. “You’re close to him, aren’t you?” Sirius shrugs non-commitally. “Maybe your lack of a reaction  _was_  shock, but ... erm ...”  
  
“Spit it out!”  
  
“Well, is it possible you actually like him?”

  
  
  
  
Benjy’s Patronus arrives after Lily has left. Sirius is washing dishes, and still wondering what he should do when the silvery bull appears in his kitchen.  
  
“We need to talk,” it says in Benjy’s voice. “Can I come over, or would you prefer somewhere neutral?”  
  
Pursing his lips, Sirius sets his large dog Patronus free from his wand and sends it straight to Benjy. “Come here,” he instructs it.   
  
He’s ready when he arrives. His wand is to hand, and he’s standing by the window of his flat, trying to effect an air of calm that he doesn’t altogether feel. Lily’s words have shaken him - the past twenty-four hours have been like a ride on a speeding broomstick with no steering or brakes. He doesn’t know how he feels about Benjy, or how he feels about anyone, not now.  
  
Benjy appears in the Floo, shaking dust off his robes, his face tired and grim. “May I sit down?”  
  
Sirius gestures to a chair but doesn’t move from the window. He tilts his head down, studying Benjy from beneath his fringe and notices that he still looks the same.  _But then why would he be different?_ he chides himself.  _He’s still the same man. It’s my perception that’s changed._  
  
“Have you seen Albus yet?” Benjy asks. “Because if you haven’t, then I’ll send a message now. I’ll explain the whole thing to him, and he’ll reorganise us. He can’t expect you to carry on with me, not after -”  
  
“I haven’t seen him,” Sirius mumbles. Then he licks his lips and takes a breath. “I’m not going to, either.” He sees something approaching a gleam in Benjy’s eyes and swallows hard because he didn’t mean to raise any sort of hope in the man, but ... “I like working with you, Benjy. I think I could learn a lot from you, and we make a good team, but -”  
  
“But you’re not interested in me,” Benjy states.  
  
“I’m not, sorry.”  
  
Benjy smiles slightly. “Is this the point where you say ‘it’s me, not you.’?”  
  
Snorting, Sirius moves away from the window and takes the chair opposite Benjy. He summons some Firewhisky and pours two measures, handing one to Benjy, and noting when their fingers touch that he felt remarkably detached. But then his only strong attachments have been to his friends, and now, maybe, Lily.   
  
“I’ll be honest with you,” he says as he sips his drink. “I think it is me. I don’t feel things, Benjy, not the way other people do. I see James and Lily wrap themselves around each other physically as well as mentally, and that’s never happened to me. If I want sex, I sleep with a girl, but that’s all I need from them.”   
  
“It sounds -” Benjy grasps for the word. “Empty.”  
  
Sirius shrugs. “I have James. And Remus and Peter,” he adds.  
  
“I should go. I am sorry about earlier, but at least it’s out in the open,” Benjy says. As he stands up, wincing when he puts weight on his injured leg, Sirius steadies him. They stare at each other, pale blue meeting slate grey, and a small smile of understanding passes between them.   
  
“Are we cool?” Benjy asks.   
  
He remembers Benjy by the river, a hand touching his as they skimmed stones together.  
  
“Finish your drink, you lightweight,” Sirius replies.   
  
  


***

  
  
The mass of blood and guts and flesh mingling with the mud are put together in some semblance of a human form. But nothing is recognisable. Eyes, neck, arm, fingers, thigh - all are there, and yet nothing remains of the man that made Benjy Fenwick who he was.  
  
Sirius stares at the bloodied chest and at the dark hole where Benjy’s heart once was and tries to feel something.  
  
But he is numb.


End file.
